Watchers and Agents
by CynthiaW
Summary: Joe Dawson gets a phone call from an FBI agent. What could he want? Sequel to "The Ultimate Serial Killer." Rated T to be safe.


Disclaimer: I do not own either _Criminal Minds_ or the _Highlander_ series.

Summary: Joe Dawson gets a phone call from an FBI agent. What could he want?

A/N: This story opens up shortly after "The Ultimate Serial Killer" ends.

Watchers and Agents

Joe Dawson was relaxing behind the counter, watching the customers currently patronizing his bar. It was quiet right now, so there was no music (the place was a jazz bar, and Joe often played), as most of the regulars had already left for the evening. Joe kept a half an eye on the door, as Adam Pierson had said he'd be by a bit later on. Joe was one of a few who knew that Adam was actually the world's Oldest Immortal, Methos, whose head was sought after by most of the head hunters who suspected his continued existence.

Duncan MacLeod would be out of town for at least another week. The Highlander was Joe's assignment, so he always needed to know where the Scotsman was. Being the man's friend helped a lot in his alternate job as a Watcher, a member of a secret organization that existed to observe and record the activities of Immortals, who were also a secret. The Watchers didn't like that Joe was Duncan's friend, but at least their friendship meant he could keep track of Duncan's movements and fights. It was difficult enough for someone of his age to keep up with a fit man who looked to be in his twenties, let alone with two bum legs.

That friendship was what led to Duncan calling him from Boston tonight. He'd just killed a young Immortal who had failed to learn the Rules of the Game and killed mortals, drawing the attention of the FBI. This Daniel Johnson had died in battle, and didn't realize it until the head hunters came out of the woodwork to take his head. He had played the Game for some time, from the sound of things, without understanding how to.

When the young man sensed Duncan, he hadn't realized what was happening and his attention was drawn to mortals that looked like the Highlander. Duncan had finally managed to confront him, and, like the Boyscout Methos liked to call him, had offered to be his First Teacher. Johnson refused his help and Duncan was forced to kill him. With Johnson having killed Duncan's contact for the sword he'd been in Boston to acquire, Duncan would now have to find a new contact to work with.

Joe's thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing. Picking up the receiver, he said, "Joe's Bar. Joe speaking."

A young-sounding voice could be heard on the other end. "Mr. Dawson? My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Joe froze at that. Why would the FBI be interested in talking to an old bartender? "How can I help you?"

Dr. Reid answered, "An old friend of yours was almost a victim of a serial killer my team was investigating in Boston. He asked me to get in touch with you." There was a slight emphasis on the word 'old' that Joe almost missed.

The agent's answer broke through Joe's frozen state. The Watcher suddenly recalled the call from Duncan, when the Scotsman mentioned that an FBI agent had seen the light show from Johnson's Quickening. Instead of asking what would be the obvious question under normal circumstances, Joe said, "I'm guessing Duncan explained a few things to you."

"He did," Reid affirmed. "I was thinking that I could probably give you some information that Mr. MacLeod didn't have."

Joe considered the offer. Johnson didn't have a Watcher, according to the database. And biographical details prior to an Immortal's first entrance into the Game (including training with their First Teacher) were difficult to get to without a lot of digging into records that one might not be able to gain access to. He liked the idea that an FBI agent could gain him that access. He could close the file with a complete history, unlike many files in the Watcher Database.

Then, he had another idea. He could have that access on a more permanent basis. Obviously, that was why Duncan had suggested that Dr. Reid call him. But he couldn't make this kind of pitch over the phone... "Dr. Reid, I'd be happy to have whatever you can get for me. Tell you what: if you can find some time to come out to Seacouver, we can have a nice leisurely conversation about this."

Reid seemed to consider this carefully, as the silence on the other end stretched out. Finally, he spoke. "I think I can manage that. I'll make the arrangements and get back to you as to when I can be there."

* * *

It took Spencer a couple of weeks to set up the trip. His whole team had some time off due, so he flew out to Las Vegas to visit his mother at Bennington Sanitarium for a few days. Then, he took a flight north to Washington, on Southwestern Airlines, up to Sea-Tac Airport, where he rented a car and drove to Seacouver.

Dawson had told him where to find Joe's Bar, and that he would draw less attention if he came in the evening. The establishment in question was a jazz bar, and often had local musicians playing there, including the owner himself. Reid was fascinated by the idea, and hoped to catch some of the music scene at this bar.

When he pulled up at Joe's Bar, he could hear that someone was, indeed, playing inside. On entering, he saw a man of late middle age sitting on a stool with a steel string guitar in his hands. The heavily graying beard was trimmed short, his nearly white hair spiked and cut longer than a true crew cut, and a cane leaned against the stool the musician sat on.

As the musician played a blues number, Reid headed over to the bar. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that he was being watched by a tall, lean man with a hawkish nose, dressed in almost slovenly fashion, the scholarly style set off by the long trench coat that hung open to drape on the ground.

Spencer leaned on the bar to speak to the bartender. "I'd like to speak to Joe Dawson, please. I believe he's expecting me. I'm Dr. Reid." He reached for his ID to show the man.

The bartender didn't reach for his ID, simply nodded in acknowledgment. "He'll be with you in a few minutes. He's just finishing his set." He nodded to the stage, where the musician was finishing his song. The musician nodded back to the bartender as he acknowledged the applause of the audience.

As another song started, the FBI agent turned for a better view. "He's really good. Does he play sets often?"

The bartender began wiping down a glass from a tray of just-washed dishes. "Just about every night. You want anything while you wait?"

Reid turned to glance at the bartender a moment before turning back to watch Joe's playing. "Uh... Just some Coke, please."

The young agent's drink was placed on the counter as Joe finished his set and reached for his cane. Leaning a bit on the cane, Joe put the guitar inside its case before he hobbled over to the bar. He nodded at the hawkish man that was staring at Reid, indicating for him to come over as well.

As the two men approached, the profiler studied them both. Joe had been injured some time ago, most likely Vietnam, based on his age and how comfortable he was in using the cane to walk. His companion looked like he was in his mid-twenties or so, though Reid was certain there was more to him than was obvious on the surface. He had the look of a heavy drinker, based on how he held his mug of beer, though there was no sign of the heavy drinker in his appearance or attitude. Though he did sneer when he caught sight of Reid's glass of Coke.

Joe came up to Spencer, nodding at the bartender before holding out a hand to the agent. "Dr. Reid, I presume. I'm Joe Dawson." He nodded to his companion. "This is Adam Pierson, one of my associates, and a good friend."

Reid took the hand, managing to suppress his discomfort with doing so. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. Dawson." He nodded at Pierson, who looked him up and down with an appraising eye, taking a sip of his beer as he studied the young agent.

The young man seemed a bit smug as he said, "You seem a bit young to be a doctor. What is your area of specialization?" His British accent was slightly muted, but obvious.

The FBI agent blushed a bit. "I'm over thirty years old." Pierson's scepticism faded a tad and Reid straightened up a bit as he answered the man's question. "I have Ph.D.'s in Mathematics, Chemistry, and Engineering, as well as two B.A.'s in Psychology and Sociology." Both men were very impressed with this litany, and Pierson didn't press him any further.

Joe gave his friend a withering look before pushing forward. "Well, Dr. Reid, if you'll follow me into the back, we can have a more private discussion." At the agent's nod, the bar owner led his guest to the back of the bar, followed by Pierson, accompanied by a sigh of resignation from Joe. Pierson had, apparently, insisted on being present for their conversation.

The three men took seats around a table that sat in the back room, and Joe began. "So, Dr. Reid, you said you have some information for me on the Immortal Daniel Johnson. Let's start there."

Spencer pulled out an envelope. "One of our technical analysts looked him up at my request and printed out the information for me before we declared it a cold case." At the concerned looks on his companions' faces, he hurriedly assured them, "I didn't tell her more than that I'd found his name while I was looking into my own leads. She didn't press for details and that's all she knows. This envelope has everything the FBI could find on him." Joe took the proffered envelope, opened it, and scanned a few pages before handing the stack off to Pierson. Pierson also scanned the first few pages before putting them back into the envelope.

As the younger Watcher put the envelope down on the table, Joe said, "We appreciate your help in getting this for us. It can be hard for us to get these kinds of details." Reid nodded at this, and Joe took a deep breath to prepare himself for the next part. "That's why we'd like to offer you a position in the Watcher organization. We need your help in keeping our records complete."

Pierson stared at Joe in shock. "Are you kidding me, Joe? We've _never_ had contacts in any world government. What if we're found out? Can we afford to risk everything this organization does for a few bits of information?"

Joe sighed. "I think we need those contacts, Adam. The information we need on Immortals is getting harder to access by normal means. Electronic databases are hard to get into unless you have the access to them. We _need_ to have complete records, and Dr. Reid is the first person with access we have the opportunity to recruit." He turned to Reid. "What do you say?"

Spencer was a bit reluctant. "I have a few concerns to address. First, I can't be assigned an Immortal to Watch. My job takes me all over the country at a moment's notice."

Dawson nodded. "Not all of us are assigned Immortals. Adam, here, is assigned to tracking down the oldest Immortal known to have ever lived." Adam smirked at the description of his duties in the organization. "I can make sure that you're strictly information gathering, with no assignments unless you tell us otherwise."

The agent nodded at the concession. "Second, how do I find out what you need and get the information where it needs to go? I don't have an e-mail, and I can't come out here very often."

Joe stared at Spencer for a moment. "No e-mail?" Reid shook his head. "Well, if you give me a phone number, we can call to give you names to look into for us. We'll tell you where to mail copies of the info for us to enter into the files. Some of the offices keep post office boxes so Watcher business is kept separate from the cover businesses."

Pierson seemed uncomfortable with these conditions and concessions. "What's your next condition?"

Reid took a breath, not sure how his final condition would be received. "My final concern is that our technical analyst is going to get suspicious of all of these searches for people unrelated to ongoing cases. I'm not really a tech person, so I have to go to her for anything I need. I want to tell her about Immortals and recruit her for the Watchers, too."

Adam exploded. "What?!" He jumped to his feet. "This is insane, Joe! We're recruiting an FBI agent after MacLeod gets careless, then that same FBI agent wants us to accept one of his little colleagues, sight unseen, on his say-so alone! You can't be serious!"

Joe glared at his friend. "Sit down, Adam! If she's the one that got all of our info on Johnson, she's obviously very good at this." Pierson didn't look happy, but he plopped back in his chair, all the while grumbling to himself in what sounded like Latin, though Reid wasn't entirely sure.

When Joe felt certain his friend wouldn't interrupt again, he said, "Adam may be overreacting, but I do agree that taking your friend on without talking to her myself has me concerned. Can you guarantee that she'll keep this a secret?"

Reid recalled the technical analyst's hacker past, which she had not told any of the team that didn't already know about it until she was shot. "Yes, I can. She may feel it necessary to tell one other person, who can help keep the Unit Chief from finding out, since that would lead to the Director finding out." Adam nearly flipped out again, but a withering glare from Joe made him subside. "But that would be it, and that one other will not be told everything, just enough to help us."

Joe thought this over. "You're dead set on bringing her in?"

Spencer nodded. "I won't sign up unless I can talk to her about this. It's non-negotiable."

Joe looked at Adam, who wore a mutinous expression. Sighing in exasperation, Dawson said, "I run this branch of the Watchers. I make the final decision." Looking back at Spencer, the aging Watcher gave a simple nod. "I accept your terms, Dr. Reid. Talk to your analyst, and get back to me. I want you to tell me who your one other is, and we'll discuss how much to tell this person. I look forward to having you on board."

The two shook hands again, but Pierson only took a long gulp of his beer before walking out of the room, quite angry at Joe's decision.

* * *

A couple of days after Reid returned to Quantico, he found some time to talk to the BAU technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. The currently blonde tech goddess was busy typing away at some program she was working on. Looking up at his knock she called out, "Reid! Welcome back! How's your mom?"

Reid smiled at the woman's exuberance. "She's doing great, Garcia. Listen, the reason I stopped by is 'cause I wanted to discuss something with you. And I need you to keep the conversation a secret."

Garcia frowned. "This doesn't sound good. What's wrong? I promise that no word of this shall pass my lips unless you tell me it's okay." She held up her hand like a trial witness being sworn in as she made her promise.

The genius chuckled at that, looking at the floor a moment before looking back at his friend. "Thanks, Garcia." He closed the office door, and moved further in. "This might take a while."

Garcia pushed an empty chair over to him. "Sit. I will listen for however long it takes. The rest of the team's not back from their vacations yet, so we have all the time we need, my little genius."

Spencer sat down carefully on the wheeled desk chair. "Well, you know the beheadings we investigated in Boston a few weeks ago?"

Garcia nodded in confusion. "It went cold, 'cause you guys ran out of leads. And the killings stopped."

Reid rubbed his arm nervously. "Yeah, about that... I wasn't entirely truthful about everything I knew." At Garcia's annoyed glare, he hurriedly explained, "The reason for it was because I didn't have an explanation for what really happened. It was so bizarre, I would have had a hard time writing the report without sounding crazy." The glare softened. The whole team knew how sensitive Reid was about his own mental health.

Spencer continued. "Anyway, I found out that Duncan MacLeod, that dojo owner we spoke to, was Immortal. And he's not the only one. The un-sub we were looking for was also an Immortal, but much younger. I went to Duncan's hotel, only to find him fighting the un-sub in a nearby alley, using swords."

Garcia cocked her head to one side. "Swords? Like Errol Flynn?"

Reid nodded. "Exactly. Except that when the duel was over, I witnessed a lightning storm over a clear sky that ignored the buildings and arced down into the alley to strike the winner." The girl winced at that. "The winner was Mr. MacLeod, and he told me about an elaborate Game wherein this group of men and women fight duels to the death to win a Prize they can't name."

Garcia pushed her glasses up her nose and studied the agent, trying to decide if this was some joke. "Reid, that makes no sense. Why try to win a prize when you don't know what it is?"

Reid nodded in understanding of her confusion. "I don't know, Garcia. But it's been going on for millennia. There's a lot about this, and it could take a while to go over it all, which we can do later on. In any case, the reason I came to you is that, where there are Immortals, there are also people who keep an eye on them.

"These Watchers monitor Immortals and keep track of where they go, what they do, whose heads they take, and when these things happen. I spoke to them after Boston, and they want me to join them."

Garcia wiped away a tear. "Are you taking them up on their offer?" It was obvious she didn't want him to leave to join them.

Reid crossed one leg over the other and rested his arms on the upper leg. "I'm not leaving the BAU, Garcia. I will work with them, but I told them that I would only agree if I could bring you in, too. After all, you're the only reason I had the information on the Immortal Duncan killed."

Garcia was seriously intrigued by Reid's story. True, the idea of these Immortal men and women running around, killing each other with swords might seem a bit far-fetched. But the photos she found of Johnson were a bit eerie to look at. Over the course of twenty years, the man hadn't seemed to age a day. There had to be a better explanation than Spencer's almost flimsy 'he must come from a family that ages well.'

And these Watchers Reid was considering joining were keeping track of all of these Immortals. He promised that he wouldn't leave the Bureau, so her family wouldn't be in danger of being separated. And if she joined the Watchers with him, she wouldn't have to leave either. That was the most important part of all of this.

Penelope did not like change. And nothing was going to change, except that she and Reid would be sharing a secret that no one else on the team was aware of. She just needed to clarify exactly what would be expected of her.

Garcia smiled at her friend. "Well, I'm honored that you thought to include me. I'm a little miffed that you lied before, but I'll get over it.

"So we can keep our jobs. I'm guessing they've got a way to get the info we send?" Reid nodded. "And a way to let us know what they need?" Again, Reid nodded. "Then, I'm in."

"Thanks, Garcia. I also think that we'll need one more person to help us keep this contained so that the Unit Chief doesn't learn of this. We don't want this getting back to the Director."

Garcia grinned. "We'll tell Hotch. He doesn't like secrets within the team, and he can easily run interference for us."

Reid shook his head. "Not Hotch. He doesn't like lying to his supervisors. He wouldn't like having to keep a secret this big from them."

"So who do you suggest?"

After a moment's thought, he said, "Rossi. He's not big on the politics, and he'll readily agree to help if we explain to his satisfaction why it's necessary to hide this. And Rossi can keep Hotch off our backs if he figures out we're hiding something. All Rossi needs to say is that he knows what we're doing and that we won't let it interfere with our jobs."

Garcia nodded. "I agree. Rossi it is. So tell me more about these Immortals we're supposed to be Watching."

* * *

Supervisory Special Agent David Rossi sat in his office reading old case files. Not a big fan of vacations, he had decided to take the time the rest of his team was gone to decide which of their recent cases could be included in a book. Rossi's publisher wanted to know if he had any ideas for his next one, since it had been a while since his last one was released.

David put the file he was reading on the stack of read files, and was about to move on to the next one, when there was a knock on the office door. He looked up in surprise, as his team was almost all still on vacation and no one else in the FBI building ever came to see him. Only the Unit Chief would ever have a reason, and only when the team had a case of interest to the Director.

Curious about this visitor, he called out, "Come in."

The door opened to reveal Dr. Reid and Garcia, both obviously nervous about something, most likely whatever was in the file folder Reid was holding. Reid was fidgeting with the folder, while Garcia was resisting playing with one of her pens that she had brought with her. They entered the office.

Trying to put his young colleagues at ease, Rossi said, "So, what can I do for you two?" He indicated the couch next to his door, which, unlike the chairs nearer his desk, was clear of files.

Reid shut Rossi's door and then he and Garcia sat next to each other on the couch. The younger man said, "Well, Dave, it's a bit complicated."

Rossi raised an eyebrow. Turning to Garcia, he said, "Well, Kitten? What's this about?"

The technical analyst nervously tapped her pen against her leg. "Well, sir, it's like this: we need your help with something."

Dave sighed. "Why do I get the feeling that this involves a favor I can't cash in?"

Spencer stopped fidgeting at this comment. "Why would you say that?"

The older agent chuckled, and rose to come around his desk and sit on the edge of it closest to his visitors. "You think I haven't noticed how squirrely you've been since the case in Boston?"

Reid glared at him. "Squirrely?"

Rossi nodded. "Definitely. You have some obvious nervous tics, which haven't gone away at all the last couple of weeks. The case went cold awfully fast, considering that we weren't anywhere near catching up to the guy. And I think you know why it went cold. In addition, after you came back from visiting your mother, I saw you disappear for a couple of hours, and then you came to see me with Garcia. You don't usually need backup to discuss an issue about your mother. So what's going on?"

The two younger agents looked at one another, then Reid answered, "Alright, Dave. You're going to find this hard to believe." Rossi studied the younger man apprehensively. This was ominous. Reid continued. "You see, it all started when I was staying late at the station, trying to make sense of the data we had. Hotch sent me back to the hotel, and I wound up looking for Duncan MacLeod, the dojo owner we talked to who also collects swords."

Rossi nodded. He remembered the Scottish immigrant pretty well. He'd also sensed that the man was hiding something from them. "Go on."

The genius ran a hand through his hair before continuing. "Well, I never got to his hotel. On the way there, I heard the clash of swords and went to investigate. I saw the end of a sword duel, at the conclusion of which, there was a sudden lightning storm out of a clear sky." Rossi was skeptical, but Garcia seemed unsurprised by it. "The weird part was that the lightning didn't strike the buildings, but the winner of the duel, who was obviously in a lot of pain."

Rossi cocked his head. "Now _that_ I believe. Though lightning usually strikes the highest point, so I can't explain why the buildings weren't hit."

Reid nodded. "Neither could I. When the light show ended, I approached, and was shocked to see that the winner was Mr. MacLeod. He assured me that he wasn't the un-sub. His opponent was."

Dave considered this. "I'm guessing you saw no indication that he was lying to you."

The younger profiler nodded. "He had every reason to, but I could tell he was telling the truth. He took me someplace private, and told me some things that really surprised me. I've just told Garcia, and we need you to run interference with Hotch so the Director doesn't learn of this."

Rossi thought it over. "Okay, so you came to me because Hotch would have needed too much convincing to keep it secret. You're right that Aaron is a bit too 'by the book' to conceal information he thinks the Unit Chief should know. Even if you did convince him of the necessity, he wouldn't be happy about it.

"So, both of you will have to work on your tells, or the whole team will know you're hiding something, and try to find out what it is. They won't all take my word that they shouldn't pry too much into this." Both nodded, and the senior agent continued. "Just from what little you've told me about how you found out MacLeod's secret, I know you wouldn't have let him go if you didn't trust that he wasn't a risk to anyone else. Tell me what you can about this, and I'll see what I can do to keep Hotch from prying too much. He's too good a profiler not to figure out that you two have a secret, no matter how well you try to conceal it. I'll make sure he's less interested in digging too deep to find out what it is."

Garcia grinned. "Thanks, Rossi."

Dave smiled back at her. "No problem, Kitten."

Reid sighed in relief, and stood the file he held on it's edge on his lap. "Thanks a lot, Dave."

"Happy to help, Reid." Rossi crossed his arms over his chest. "So, what's this big secret you need me to help you keep?"


End file.
